


Harry Potter and the Bending Menace

by DracoMaleficium



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cross-cultural, Crossover, Drabble Collection, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoMaleficium/pseuds/DracoMaleficium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's eighth year at Hogwarts is made more interesting when visitors from Bending Academy over in Asia come for a long visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Arrivals

**Author's Note:**

> This, like many projects in this world, started out because I was bored. And since my new A:TLA hype was still growing strong when "Deathly Hallows: part 2" came out in the cinemas, my brain suggested it might be a good idea to try and combine the two. What was supposed to be pure crack grew, and then grew some more as I posted it to my lj and it turned out people actually _enjoyed_ it and left prompts for more... So here it is. A collection of loosely-connected short stories written in no particular order whenever the urge strikes me, with canon pairings (unless the characters decide otherwise), something almost like plot and lots of character development. I can't promise you a chronological order with the stuff I'm still about to write, but I'll post the already existing drabbles in something of a continuity. 
> 
> DH-compliant for HP, for A:TLA - obviously AU
> 
> Enjoy.

“Man, look at those _robes_!” exclaimed Ron, only a breath away from whistling his appreciation as the group of foreign Asian student representatives of Bending Academy marched past them on their way to the dais.

Harry nodded vigorously, eyeing the newcomers and craning his neck after them unabashedly, much like every other student at the Gryffindor table. All of the other tables, too, come to that. In any other circumstances, Harry would have been ashamed of his ogling – he was subjected to the agony of being shamelessly stared at too many times not to feel sympathetic – but on this particular occasion, he felt his ogling was properly justified. It was not remotely like watching the Beauxbatons or Durmstrang students back in fourth year, and that was partly because Ron was right: the robes of the foreign wizards were indeed spectacular.

The other reason was that the guests did not even merit the word “wizard,” exactly, as far as Harry could tell. Hermione had explained the matter to them all thoroughly enough – was doing so even now, in fact, for the benefit of those few who had not yet had the pleasure of overhearing her overeager lectures.

“They don’t practice magic like we do,” she was whispering, her cheeks flushed, making frantic gestures and casting excited glances at the splashes of lush colour, elegant brocade, layers of exotic-looking robes and very oriental hairstyles on the dais. “I mean, I’m sure there are proper wizards in Asia somewhere, but this particular school teaches – well, I guess _bending_ is the closest translation. They control the elements, you see. Asian culture is all about the four elements and the harmony between them, and when a person is born a bender, that means they have an element assigned to them which they can control. Well, except for the Avatar, who is –“

 _A bridge between the human world and the Spirit world and controls all four elements_ , Harry repeated in his mind in synch with Hermione’s rushed flurry of words. He’d heard it all from her before, and so many times he’d lost count. Ever since Hermione’d stormed their common room with a dusty, obscure-looking book tucked under her armpit, then proceeded to babble excitedly about the elements and bending and the Asian ways of magic and the Avatar and the spirit world and how absolutely fascinating it all was, Harry and Ron had never heard the end of it.

Not that Harry didn’t find this stuff fascinating. He had been an avid listener that first evening by the fireplace, captivated as much as anyone else present in the Common Room and just as agitated about finding a whole new branch of magic as Hermione had been. And he was still curious, now more than ever as he watched the colourful group of Asian students file into a neat row facing them, clearly divided into smaller groups distinguished by the hue of their robes.

“The blue ones are Waterbenders,” Hermione explained obligingly, and Harry gloomily reflected on her apparent skill in stating the obvious. “Behind them, in those yellow robes, those are the Airbenders. See their bald heads? Oh, and look, that one kid has arrow tattoos, that’s so cool! It means he’s a master! There’s so few of them, I thought there’d be more… but since they are very spiritual and usually lead monastic lifestyles, perhaps it’s natural that most of them would rather stay in their temples. Now the green ones, that’s Earthbenders. Wow, that girl looks so tiny… Oh gosh, do you think she might be blind? Her eyes are kind of milky, don’t you think? So sad… And then, of course, the Firebenders in red. They look really posh and gaudy, don’t they? Sort of imperial, even. Just look at that boy to the right with the… Oh God.”

Harry hissed just as soon as Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Ron craned to see what they were looking at and drew in a sharp breath. A collective gasp sounded all around Harry as the rest of the Gryffindors turned to see what had their colleagues so agitated, and then they, too, stared. The boy Hermione had been indicating was turning his head to glare across the Great Hall, and as his eyes at that precise moment wandered over to the Slytherin table, the left side of his face came into view. The ugly, enormous, flame-shaped scar which covered his eye and stretched out all the way to his ear and under his hairline was strikingly exposed, the elegant, tight topknot the boy was sporting only strengthening the impact it had left on everyone who gaped at it.

A reverend silence fell upon the Gryffindor table until Ron leaned over to them and mouthed, his eyes still fixed on the scar: “Firebender, huh? I guess training can get pretty vicious.”

“Shit, it looks painful,” whispered Seamus. “Imagine being burned on the face like that. If such accidents happen on regular basis, I really don’t want to be close when those guys get down to business.”

“Are you kidding me? You love fire, you’d probably be right there getting in their shooting range,” snickered Dean, pouring himself some more pumpkin juice. Seamus snorted, but did not grace that insinuation with an answer.

Harry was still staring at the Firebender. He had seen a fair share of injuries over the years, and not many of them left permanent marks. Aside from the famous lightning bolt adorning his forehead, injuries were quick to heal in the magical world and Madam Pomfrey could usually patch anyone up without leaving any outward signs showing. Harry knew next to nothing about healing magic in Asia, but he imagined they would not be behind in the field. This realization made the dark shape of the scar only stand out stronger.

The boy’s eyes were moving again and, as if drawn by his insistent gaze, rested on Harry. The Gryffindor’s first impulse was to look away, but that would have only been even more awkward, so he kept his gaze in place and offered a shy, apologetic smile the stranger’s way. If the boy noticed it, he did not acknowledge it in any way aside from shrugging almost imperceptibly and frowning even deeper as his eyes continued their examination of the student body.

Only when he looked away did Harry realize with a small jolt in his stomach that the boy had golden eyes.

The girl standing next to him, tall and proudly erect, her hair neatly tied back into a similar topknot but with two thick strands falling over her face, a slight, very condescending smirk distorting her beautiful, regular features, also had golden eyes. She used them to survey the Great Hall with just enough hints of disdain for it to be perceptible, but not enough to be outwardly offensive. As soon as he laid his eyes on her, Harry promptly decided he did not like her. It was gut instinct, really. The girl had Slytherin painted all over her, and the way she smirked did nothing to help alleviate the first impression.

Great. As if they did not have more than enough Slytherins as it was.

Harry looked away from her almost as soon as his gaze rested on the girl, and would have continued his examination of the new students had McGonagall not stood up on the podium and lifted her hands, signaling for everyone to stop talking.

As soon as the hush settled over the Great Hall, she magically amplified the volume of her voice and delivered the obligatory welcoming speech.

It was nothing Harry didn’t expect. He listened dutifully and tried to pay attention as the Headmistress expressed her enormous joy at being able to welcome such exquisite guests within the walls of Hogwarts, insisted on the great honor of being the first Western school to ever receive students from the esteemed Bending Academy, then proceeded to introduce the few educators and chaperones who were in charge of the little representative group. It was a lot of very Asian-sounding names that Harry was sure he would not have memorized if he tried. As soon as the necessary exchange of niceties was done with – and from the guests’ side it was executed in heavily-accented English by a friendly-looking, stout old man with huge whiskers, a thick beard and a benevolent, slightly mischievous glint in his eyes that reminded Harry strongly of Dumbledore – McGonagall went on to clarify a few basic things about the Bending Academy and how different it was from the Western kind of magic, and it was a neat summary of everything Hermione had been throwing over their heads ever since she learned of the upcoming visit.

“Now, I’m sure you are all eager to hear the reasons behind this unusual visitation,” said the Headmistress, her eyes glinting as she surveyed her students. “I was just as surprised as you were when we were granted this honorary offer. The four headmasters of Bending Academy decided they wanted to expose their select students to our culture, so that they may learn about our kind of magic first-hand and then spread the word among their colleagues. Apparently, a great deal of prejudice and misconception has been circulating among them and the headmasters decided that direct exposure would be the best means to counter it. Our school has been selected, which is a great distinction indeed. Therefore, I expect you all to be on your best behaviour for the duration of our guests’ stay. Remember that your actions reflect not only on yourselves, not even on Hogwarts, but on the Western world as a whole. Please keep that in mind, and I am sure you too will benefit from this unique opportunity to study arts so different from our own. I have great faith in that you will welcome our guests with every bit of hospitality and warmth they are entitled to.”

All of this was ordinary, pompous, ceremonial stuff every student of Hogwarts had come to expect. What McGonagall did next, though, drew a collective intake of breath from nearly the entire student body – she motioned for Filch to bring forth the stool with the Sorting Hat still resting on it to the centre of the podium, dividing the four foreign groups to stand on either side of it, the Fire- and Earthbenders to the right, the Water and Air students to the left.

“But the Sorting ceremony’s already taken place, what does she need the old hat for _now_?” commented Ginny under her breath, thus giving voice to what everyone was thinking.

The Headmistress didn’t keep them in suspense for long. “As you can see, our guests are already divided into something resembling our four houses much like we are, depending on the element they were gifted with. But it was the headmasters’ expressed wish that their students be exposed to our culture and ways as closely as possible, in keeping with Hogwarts’s centuries-old traditions. Therefore, our young guests will now be Sorted into each of our four houses for the duration of their stay. I trust you will take close care of your new housemates and help them in every way possible once they find themselves in your houses. Remember, you were all new to Hogwarts yourselves, once.”

Her gaze for the briefest of moments flickered over to Harry and the boy nodded imperceptibly, a small smile gracing his lips. He remembered that all too-well.

“Let the Sorting commence,” announced McGonagall, bringing her hands together. Harry was sure she would then delegate the duty to professor Flitwick, just as she had during the first-years’ ceremony, but he was surprised to see she had promptly unrolled a long scroll herself and stood next to the beaming, stout old man with the sideburns as she began to read names off the list.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” whispered Ron over to Harry, who nodded. It _was_ unexpected. Not that he had given it much thought when the news spread, but he vaguely imagined the new students to keep to themselves and sleep in some self-provided location, just like the French and Bulgarian students had for the Triwizard Tournament. This was an interesting development to say the least and he was not yet sure what to make of it.

_I just hope they speak English, otherwise it’s going to be really awkward._

The names were not exactly normal, too. When McGonagall called for the first student, it was not the standard name plus surname combination, but rather: “Aang, Air Nomads!”

Forth stepped the boy with the arrow tattoos Hermione was so excited about. Only then did Harry take a closer look at him. The boy’s head was shaved bald, which made the tattoo on his forehead stand out even more prominently – Ron nudged Harry in the ribs and whispered into his ear “Looks like you’re no longer the only one with weird stuff on your face” – and he was wearing a huge, wide grin which Harry could only call disarming. He looked no older than fourteen, thirteen perhaps, and his expression was as open and friendly as it could possibly be. If he smiled any wider, Harry thought his ears would fall off. His robes reminded him of the Tibetan monks he read about some time ago – yellow and orange, loose and comfortable looking, with no ornaments, plain, simple and functional. The kid was still grinning when McGonagall motioned for him to sit down, and when the Sorting Hat landed on his head, the smile was the only thing visible from his face for a moment.

The Hat was silent longer than usually. When it finally did open its mouth, it was to yell “Hufflepuff!”, at which, inexplicably enough, Harry felt a small pang of disappointment. He rather liked the smiling boy, he thought. The Air kid seemed approachable and amiable enough and Harry wouldn’t have minded showing him around.

The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers and clapping and the boy immediately snapped his head in its direction. He glanced at an ancient-looking monk standing a little to the side with the Air students, then over to McGonagall, who nodded kindly and indicated that he should go join the cheering table. And that was when the Air kid surprised the entire Great Hall.

He did a grand sweep with his hands and then, suddenly, he was spinning a huge ball of air in place. And then he _jumped_ on the ball of air. As if that wasn’t enough, he then promptly rode said ball of air all the way to the Hufflepuff table, laughing and scattering food and cutlery all over the place. The cheering increased quite significantly in volume after this little stunt and as soon as he dismounted, the laughing Air student was surrounded by excited Hufflepuffs who, by the looks of it, started bombarding him with questions and exclamations of awe.

Harry stopped staring with his mouth hanging open only when McGonagall cleared her throat and called forth the next student, her pronunciation careful and crisp: “Azula, Fire Nation!”

“Fire _Nation_?” repeated Ron with some degree of incredulity, but Harry was not paying attention; most of the Asian students turned their heads in the direction of the smirking Fire girl, whom Harry had already sorted into Slytherin in his mind. The girl was regarding McGonagall with quiet, cold intensity and did not move. Soon, everyone knew why. The old man smiling benevolently next to the Headmistress leaned toward her and whispered something in her ear, indicating the girl. McGonagall’s face betrayed nothing as she nodded mutely, then straightened up again and called: “Princess Azula, Fire Nation!”

Surprisingly enough, utter, expectant silence greeted her as the girl called Princess Azula stepped forward, smirked at McGonagall rather nastily and regarded the Sorting Hat with quite a lot of condescending contempt before deigning to sit down and let it rest on her head. But the unnatural hush surrounding her Sorting was stretched incredibly thin and so bursting with suppressed intensity it could have been organic. No one so much as breezed a sound while the girl endured the Hat’s ruminating, which was not for long.

Sure enough, when the Hat opened its lips, it was to yell “SLYTHERIN!”

A princess. The Slytherin House had acquired a princess. Harry could feel it, all around him; the incredulous whispers had finally broken out as the girl stood up with grace, sneered at the entire Great Hall and sauntered over to the cheering Slytherins, head held up, her entire figure effortlessly straight and poised, elegant and oozing self-confidence in amounts which would have been enough to supply the entire Hufflepuff House.

“Bloody hell,” whispered Ron next to Harry, both of them following the princess with their eyes. “She looks like she owns the Slytherins already. Can’t imagine the power struggle once she clashes with Malfoy. Oughta be fun.”

Ha. Harry hadn’t thought of that. But looking at the Azula girl and the way she surveyed everyone around her with a quiet, calculating sense of superiority and – yes, Ron was right – _ownership_ , well, things in the Slytherin House were likely about to change. This could get interesting indeed.

One glance in Malfoy’s direction confirmed it – the blonde was eyeing the newest addition to his house carefully, probably already wondering whether it’d be prudent to start sucking up to her from the start or to wait and make sure about her attitude. Harry smirked to himself.

_I hope he bites more than he can chew with this one._

In the meantime, other students were being Sorted, and Harry looked away from the Fire princess in time to see a “Chen, Fire Nation!” also landing in Slytherin. A smug, muscular-looking, thuggish-sort of fellow in stylish, red-and-yellow robes strode after the Princess and sat down next to her, carefully avoiding eye contact with her while still managing to emit an air of manly bravado at the rest of the Hall. At this point, Harry’s eyes wandered over to the Fire boy with the scar as he silently mused whether the Firebenders were the equivalent of Slytherin at Hogwarts, and whether all of them would end up there, upsetting Malfoy’s carefully maintained dominance. The scarred youth was glaring at everyone meaningfully enough. Judging by the permanent glare alone, Harry could make a good guess where this one was headed.

But then a “Hahn, Water Tribe!” was Sorted into Slytherin as well, which forced Harry to re-evaluate his expectations. “Haru, Earth Kingdom!” finally broke the Pattern of Doom by ending up in Hufflepuff, and seeming rather content for it. Several other Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe students followed, most of them being placed in Ravenclaw and one or two in Gryffindor – finally! – until a “Katara, Water Tribe!” was called forward and took up quite a lot of time sitting on the stool, with the Hat obviously having trouble placing her. Harry strove to take a closer look, since Ron sighed meaningfully at his side and Hermione’s silence turned a couple of degrees colder.

Then Harry realized why this had been the case. The Water Tribe girl was rather pretty, with a magnificent, flowing mane of long, dark hair and a corresponding, brown skin, and her blue – robe? Shirt? Outfit? – hugging her lean, graceful figure in a very complimentary way indeed. Harry couldn’t see much of her face, with the Hat obscuring the upper half of it, but he found himself cheering and clapping along with the others when the girl had been finally declared a Gryffindor.

Dean wolf-whistled when she took off the Hat, smiled and headed in their direction. “Merlin, those girls are pretty,” he whispered appreciatively, earning himself a scowl from most of the Gryffindor ladies in close vicinity.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, eyes glued to Katara who sat down next to some of the fifth-years and was promptly engaged in conversation. Hermione gave Ron the evil eye, at which he immediately cleared his throat and hastily added: “Not that there’s anything wrong with the local girls, in fact…”

Harry tried hard not to snicker, but avoided making eye contact with Ginny even though he felt her eyes boring into him. It was still awkward, being around her whenever romance of any kind was mentioned.

He redirected his attention to the Asian students instead and watched as more and more of them got Sorted, which did not take long, seeing as there had not been that many of them to begin with. Despite Harry’s initial expectations, there seemed to be no clear pattern of element/House correspondence, as, though more Fire Nation students did end up in Slytherin, they also landed in other houses, including Gryffindor. Most of the Air Nomads did turn out to be Hufflepuff material and Hermione started explaining something about them being monks or something, but one got Sorted into Ravenclaw, and another one into Gryffindor. The Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom students seemed to be more equally divided, mostly between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw with a few Hufflepuffs and even one or two Slytherins. After a handsome, dark-skinned boy with a curiously shaved head and a ponytail addressed as “Sokka, Water Tribe” was Sorted into Ravenclaw, a “Toph Bei Fong, Earth Kingdom!” stepped forward, which caught Harry’s attention – so far, she had been the only one addressed with a last name as well as her element, which was probably important.

It was the presumably-blind girl Hermione had mentioned earlier. Harry looked closer, noting that indeed, her eyes seemed to be tellingly misted over, but from the way the girl moved, this did not make sense – she seemed so assured and confident, not once wavering or asking for assistance as she sat down to be Sorted. That’s not how blind people were supposed to act.

The Hat took its time with her, too. The Hall grew increasingly quiet as it pondered, pondered and pondered, the girl swinging her bare-foot legs back and forth impatiently on the stool. Harry noticed a certain commotion among the Asian students; those who had already been Sorted stopped their conversations and craned their necks to watch the Toph girl more closely, while the three students who still remained on the dais – the scarred Firebender and two rather pretty girls, one white-haired, dark-skinned and in blue, rick-looking robes, the other with her long hair done up in a braid and wearing a rather shockingly pink outfit – looked on from their spot, the Water girl with polite interest, the pink-wearing one with unconcealed, endearingly childlike excitement, the boy with his permanent, angry glare still fixed in place. The minutes of silence stretched and stretched and Harry wondered briefly if this was what it had been like for the audience when he himself was being Sorted, and then –

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the Hat at last, and the reception of the news among the Asian students was mixed, though invariably animated and rather vocal. From this it seemed that the little, sure-footed girl was quite popular. Harry watched as she breathed an impatient sigh and skirted over to the Slytherins unerringly, despite her eyes clearly not seeing where she was going.

Suddenly, Hermione had an Epiphany, and whenever one of those chose to illuminate her, she usually let everyone know right away.

“She’s an Earthbender!” she nearly shrieked, grabbing her fork for dear life. “I think I get it now! She doesn’t need to see with her eyes, she –“

But Harry had not listened to her hurried and frantic thought-process any further, since it was now down to three students and he was somehow really curious about the Firebender boy –

However, first came the braid-sporting, pink-loving girl, addressed as “Ty Lee, Fire Nation!”, who was rather promptly selected into Hufflepuff and who, rather than simply walking over to her new housemates, chose to _cartwheel_ all the way there, much to everyone’s astonishment; then, “Princess Yue, Water Tribe!”, at which the white-haired girl gracefully glided over to the Hat and put it on with a politely dignified air.

Harry stared.

“Another princess?” whispered Seamus incredulously. “How come they even have princesses over there, let alone two from different elements? How does that even work?”

Hermione had started to explain, but then the Hat declared Princess Yue – a rather pretty name, Harry thought in passing – to be a Gryffindor, and when she sat down next to Katara, all smiles and radiance, it was down to just the golden-eyed, pale Firebender with the scar. The boy in question kept glaring at everyone, now even more ferociously than before, probably to fend off the uncomfortable feeling of being the last one to be stared at. Harry could sympathize.

“Prince Zuko, Fire Nation!” called McGonagall, which had been rather unnecessary but which left another wave of frantic whispering in its wake. So this one was a prince? Whatever that meant in those Eastern parts, and Harry did mean to ask Hermione about it later. Huh. Now that he looked closer, he could see some resemblance to the smirking girl – Azelula or whatever her name was – in the bone structure and the general bearing. Family, then. Cousins? Siblings? This made him being Sorted into Slytherin that much more likely.

As the Fire prince strode up to the stool in a few jerky, impatient steps, Harry noted that the fat, old, bearded man standing next to McGonagall watched him go with a soft, tender expression he had not worn before. Again, Harry was strongly reminded of Dumbledore, and the thought sent something cold and restless down to his stomach.

But then the unexpected happened, and it didn’t even take the Hat long to reach its surprising decision – after only a few seconds of considering, it yelled that the boy belonged in Gryffindor.

Harry saw Katara squirm and start in disbelief even before his own house burst into applause, and he barely registered Lavender’s excited shrills and Parvati’s delighted squeeing, though the female-generated noise was rather ear-shattering. He watched, his own eyes going wide open, as the boy stood up and strode over, glaring as hard as ever, to the edge of the table, angry-red and yellow silk robes trailing neatly after him. Apparently, he flatly refused to enter any conversation, ignoring the other Gryffindors’ attempts at starting one with him, and instead chose to fix the table itself with a ferocious scowl. Puzzled, Harry found himself glancing over at the Slytherin table on instinct, and his eyes sought out the off-putting princess; sure enough, she was regarding the scarred prince with a cold, calculating smirk. The girl sitting next to her, though – tall and pale, with raven-black, glossy hair beautifully done in an elaborate style and a bored, impassive expression on her face, who had also been Sorted in Slytherin earlier on – was regarding the boy with a curious light in her eyes. Her expression, fixed on ‘disinterested to the extreme’, seemingly did not waver, but for a moment, Harry thought he had seen a trace of genuine fondness before it flickered and died, smothered by the expressionless stare.

The Sorting Hat had been taken away then and McGonagall gave the students her blessing to stuff themselves generously with everything that lay spread on the tables, which was, as usual, a magnificent amount of typically-Hogwarts delectables. As soon as she sat back down by the teachers’ table, followed by the other Asian adults, the Great Hall erupted in gossip.

“I wonder what kind of robes they’re going to wear,” mused Neville, his voice barely audible amidst the general clatter. “Do you think they’ll give them the usual Hogwarts uniforms? I mean, they should be able to express their own culture, but we should also be able to differentiate between the Houses –“

“Two against one!” was Ron’s enthusiastic statement as he jammed his fist against the table in triumph.

“What on Earth are you on about?” asked Hermione, lifting one eyebrow.

“Royalty, of course!” clarified Ron, nearly standing up. “We’ve got a princess AND a prince in Gryffindor, yes? And Slytherin’s only got one princess! Ha! Eat your heart out, Malfoy!”

Hermione rolled her eyes at that, and then continued rolling them as the girls all over the Gryffindor table set about discussing having a _real prince_ in their house, and one they deemed to be “quite the eye-candy,” apparently despite the scar marring nearly half his face. It was unfortunate, then, that the said prince seemed more than reluctant to make friends in any sense, much less in the romantic way that some of the girls around him were already whispering about.

 _Good luck wooing this one_ , Harry thought grimly as he once again glanced at the boy. From this angle, he could only see the scarred profile, giving the wood of the table the evil eye. The prince would doubtless be snarling and shouting at the first girl to make a move on him, if Harry was any judge.

Thankfully, the other Asian students seemed to be much more approachable. A sudden burst of very feminine laughter from the Ravenclaw table caused Harry to glance over his shoulder, only to see the handsome Water Tribe boy with the unusual ponytail doing all sorts of weird, exaggerated noises and faces and waving his arms around in what must have been a representation of some exciting adventure or other. Judging from the enthusiastic reactions of the Ravenclaw girls around him and from the smug gleam in his startling blue eyes, he was positively reveling in the attention and enjoying himself immensely.

“It takes serious expertise to operate a boomerang, ladies,” he was in the middle of saying in very good, nearly accent-less, though strongly Americanized English. “I’m the master of it in our tribe, y’know. It’s all in the wrists, really. A hunter needs to be precise, deadly, stealthy –“ He then went on to show exactly what a hunter ought to be like, and from the looks of it, one of those things was being ridiculous. Harry smiled, watching him. He could already imagine him and some of his classmates getting along just fine.

Over at the Hufflepuff table, the atmosphere was just as lively, if not more so – the Air kid who was the first to be Sorted was currently showing the students around him a trick which involved spinning some small balls in a dizzying circle, apparently using Airbending. A few seats away from him, the pink-wearing girl was flirting with several Hufflepuffs at once, and so blatantly at that, many of the boys were blushing a most furious shade of red. As Harry’s eyes slid over her, her head snapped in the direction of the Slytherins while she sought someone out – the forbidding Fire princess, as it turned out. When she spotted her target, the pink-wearing girl grinned and waved. And Harry found himself staring, because grinning and waving did _not_ seem like the kind of thing a person should direct at the Fire princess at all –

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, nudging him with her elbow. “Remember what McGonagall said!”

“Oh. Right.”

His friend was already out of her seat and darting in the direction of the foreign, freshly-made Gryffindors even as Harry lifted himself only halfway off his own seat. The Boy-Who-Lived, vanquisher of Voldemort, the Chosen One and savior of the wizarding world, rolled his eyes and exchanged a meaningful smirk with Ron as they both followed her lead. It was good to see Hermione this excited over something so innocent once again – for a moment, it almost felt as if they were back in first year and she was hyperventilating over her first perfect score in Charms class.

Beside him, Ron strove to appear as aloof and unphased as possible as they approached the newest additions to their house, though Harry did take note of the sideways, sneaky glances his friend kept stealing at the Water Tribe girls. Following the glances, Harry decided he could not possibly blame him, especially knowing Ron’s weakness considering the charms of the fairer sex.

“Don’t let Hermione catch you looking at them too often,” he warned Ron with only a half of his mouth; his friend nodded, looking rather miserable at being caught in the act.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah. And it’s not like I’m, you know… attracted or anything. It’s not like the Veelas at all. They’re just… pretty, you know?”

Harry nodded again, for lack of a better response. He did know.

This ought to have been the prefects’ responsibility, really, but nowadays everyone had their hands full, what with the battle – and war – aftermath still not having been completely cleaned, and so the task of escorting the new arrivals and making sure they would not get swallowed by the hungry and alien corridors of Hogwarts fell to the eight-years, due to their extended experience of finding their way about the castle. McGonagall had made it clear that she did not expect the eight-years to do that much schoolwork anyway (most of them had stayed at Hogwarts long enough last year, even though none of them had taken their NEWTS), so it was only fair that they should contribute in some other way to the general scheme of things. Helping out the students from Bending Academy turned out to be just the thing, and that was why Harry, Ron and Hermione approached the new Gryffindors now, all encouraging smiles and radiating amiability.

Harry strove hard not to glance sideways at the Firebending prince. The boy’s permanent scowl made this whole radiating amiability business that much harder. And it did not help at all that the two other, obviously younger Firebenders, a scrawny boy and a girl wearing pig-tails, kept stealing fearful looks in his direction, clearly awaiting his guidance, even without him being aware of it. Well. Dealing with Fire folks while they looked to their prince for examples on how to interact with the locals would in all likelihood prove… challenging. 

Hermione did not waste any time. As soon as she shooed some of the surrounding fifth-years out of the way and sat down opposite the Waterbending girls, she blurted out: “Hi I’m Hermione Granger welcome to Hogwarts and could you show us some Waterbending please?”

It took most of Harry’s self-control not to perform his own rendition of the classic facepalm right then and there, but he managed to keep a straight face as he sat down to face the huddle of benders-turned-Gryffindors. Before he could interfere with some explanation of Hermione’s giddy behaviour, though, the girl with the shock of brown hair had already started spinning her pumpkin juice out of the goblet and waving it in rather nifty circles and shapes around her fingers, to the applause and awe of everyone from Hogwarts sitting near enough to see.

“No problem,” she chuckled good-naturedly; her English, too, was very good, though also Americanized. Perhaps that’s what you learned if you lived this far away from Europe? “Hi, I’m Katara. Your castle is amazing.”

“Harry Potter,” The Boy Who Lived extended his hand to shake it with all of his new housemates, and while some of them returned the handshake with vigour, some did take a few moments to hesitate until they figured out the meaning of the gesture. Katara beamed at him, still performing the little water tricks which left the Gryffindor spectators delighted.

“So you’re the famous kid we’ve all been reading about before coming here,” she said, shaking hands with him. “Congratulations on defeating that Dark Wizard. I haven’t heard that much about it, but I’ve heard enough to imagine it must have been pretty awful.”

“You must have been so brave,” chipped in the white-haired princess, her huge, blue eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “All of you. A trial such as this must have left your entire society shaken. I’m Yue, by the way, very pleased to meet you.”

Harry returned the sentiment, and did not hesitate to say so as he inclined his head towards her, feeling slightly bashful; how did one address a princess, anyway? Did they have some special sort of protocol for that? But Yue must have sensed his and Ron’s apparent uneasiness, for she shook her head once, smiling in encouragement, which cleared away most of their doubts about propriety and status differences. It was obvious she neither wanted nor expected any special treatment this far away from home. A pity, then, that some other people Harry could think of did not take a similar approach…

Quite a few of the other foreign students took the bait and fell to asking him about Voldemort and his defeat. Harry answered them briefly, but gladly enough, grateful for the chance to postpone making his introductions to the Firebenders; the prince did glance at him sideways during the cross-examination, apparently interested, but did not offer any sort of encouragement and kept his frown in place. Resigning himself to his lot and mentally preparing for a trial of hostile glaring and half-muttered, half-hissed responses, Harry braced himself to face the scarred Firebender; but, to his utter chagrin, Hermione had gotten to the boy first. When Harry promised the rest of the benders a full and detailed account of the story some other time and turned at last in the prince’s direction, his friend was already in the middle of introductions.

“There’s _so much_ I want to ask you about!” she said, a tad breathless. The boy stared at her as though she were some rare species of tropical fish, and said nothing. “I find all kinds of bending fascinating, but what I read about Firebending and your connection to the sun, that’s just _phenomenal_! Is it true that you can feel it at all times, especially when it rises? Does it really make you stronger?”

“Um – yeah. That’s right,” admitted the prince eventually, visibly cringing at the unexpected verbal assault. “We, er, have morning practice rituals and meditating and stuff.” He had a quiet, raspy kind of voice, Harry noted, and at this moment did not sound particularly unpleasant, just taken aback – but that may have been the shock value experienced by most of those dealing with Hermione for the first time.

“And tell me about the Agni Kai, Zuko – may I call you that, by the way? It’s a kind of duel, isn’t it? For Firebenders? I’ve read that it’s usually to the death, but people don’t really fight to the death now, do they? And the name, does it come from your Spirit-patron, or god, like, the god of Firebending? Because in the book I read –“

In the rush of excitement, Hermione had utterly failed to notice it, but Harry, who had been watching the prince intently during the exchange, registered that at her first mention of the fire duel, whatever its name was, a shadow passed on the boy’s face so suddenly it almost looked like a bolt of lightning zigzagging across his features. Both of his eyes darkened and narrowed, his facial muscles twitched and tautened, the burnt tissue of his scar tightening and stretching visibly, his scowl returning more ferocious than ever, his entire posture stiffening, drawing in on itself.

Ah. Now Harry had some sort of clue as to where that scar came from. Note to self – don’t ever ask that guy about the fire duel.

The boy’s expression did not lighten as Hermione went on, and at this point, Harry decided it was time for an intervention.

“Hey there,” he offered, sitting down next to Hermione and pulling Ron, who was still engaged in a conversation with an Earth girl, to slump down next to him. “Harry Potter. My friends from eight-year and I were asked to take care of you, so if any of you have questions, fire away. Um, so to speak. And your names are…?”

The prince did shake his hand when he extended it, however curtly, but he looked away when he answered: “You already know my name.”

Harry tried to sculpt his smile even wider. “Remind me. There were quite a few you being Sorted and frankly, your names are kinda difficult to remember.”

The prince lifted his eyes to meet his, then, his expression lighter somewhat now that his mind had been taken off Hermione’s questions, though his brows remained furrowed. Harry bore the heat of his gaze patiently, trying not to think about how odd those golden eyes looked, lopsided like that.

_Can he even see with that other eye properly? It’s a miracle if he can, with a burn like that…_

“Zuko,” said the boy eventually, his striking eyes still boring into Harry’s calm, emerald gaze and his glare getting even more intense as he added, his raspy voice tight: “Son of Firelord Ozai.”

Harry kept smiling, although the confusion he felt must have reflected on his face. Okaaay. Should he say that he was son of James Potter, now?

Thankfully, Ron chose this moment to come to his rescue, offering his own hand for the prince to stiffly shake. “Ron Weasley, hiya. Cool clothes. Is that a crown?”

Zuko’s hand flew instinctively to the hairpiece holding his topknot together Ron was indicating, fingering the elegant, flame-shaped ornament. “It’s a ceremonial piece reserved for Fire Nation royalty,” he replied quietly, not looking at Ron, and Harry thought he detected a slight note of defensiveness in his voice. “So yeah, you could say it’s a crown.”

“Cor,” grinned Ron, his eyes wide. “That’s so wicked. You must tell us some more about it sometime. And don’t mind Hermione,” he leaned in to whisper confidentionally, Hermione’s head snapping to glare at him. “She’s always like that. You’ll get used to her… eventually.”

Zuko’s expression when he glanced over at Hermione was slightly terrified, and Harry chuckled quietly. Ok, so it was awkward, but not nearly as bad as he’d expected. They could build on that, perhaps. He was about to turn to the two younger Fire kids to ask about their names –

A shadow fell over the table suddenly, and Zuko’s grip on his goblet tightened until his pale knuckles turned even whiter. The next instant, Harry knew exactly why – looming over them and leaning down to sneer at Zuko, standing behind his chair, was the amber-eyed Fire princess. The poker-faced, black-haired girl hovered next to her, expressionless eyes resting on the back of the prince’s head.

“Well then, Zuzu,” purred the princess somewhat nastily, hands imperiously resting on her hips, her head tilted contemptuously to the side. Her English was immaculate.“Making friends, I see. Good. I wouldn’t like you to get too lonely in you new house.”

Zuko glared at her, his free hand turning into a fist. Which _started oozing out smoke_.

“Go away, Azula,” he snapped. The girl’s smirk only turned nastier.

“Make the most of it, brother dear,” she advised, schooling her voice to express mock concern. “That tattered old thing made it quite clear you no longer belong in our house. Perhaps if you play nice, they’ll let you stay in this one for good. Father’d be pleased, you know. You’d no longer be able to embarrass him if you stayed here.”

Now Harry was sure he could see sparks and smoke puffing out of Zuko’s mouth. “Shut UP!” the boy yelled, nearly spilling his pumpkin juice as he slammed his free fist on the table. “Leave me alone!”

“I’ve been leaving you alone for nearly three years now, Zuzu,” the girl, Azula, replied, calm as ever and evidently amused by his outburst. “I thought you might get tired of it, with only Uncle Fatso for company. But suit yourself. I only hope your new friends will still want to get to know you after all this shouting.”

Zuko stood up abruptly, his movement so sudden and jerky it nearly made Harry jump in his seat. Both of his fists were shooting dagger-shaped flames as he clenched them by his sides, his glare so heated it should have burnt right through the girl. Harry had half the mind to stand up, too, if only to stop whatever was going on from becoming too sticky, but the Azula girl was already retreating, sneering as hard as ever and shaking her head at her brother’s hot temper.

“Enjoy your first night. I’ll see you around, Zuzu,” she waved at him and chuckled as he roared “Stop calling me that!” after her retreating back.

The girl who had been hovering behind Azula did not immediately follow her friend, though – she lingered, looking Zuko straight in the eyes, and something in her insistent gaze placated the boy enough to make him stop shooting fire from his hands. They looked at each other for a long, stretching minute without a single word, and then the girl _smiled_. It was so utterly unexpected and fleeting that at first Harry thought he’d imagined it, and it was gone in just a flicker – but Zuko must have intercepted it too, for his tense shoulders sagged visibly and his body relaxed by inches. Then, in a blink, the girl swept away and was gone, gliding gracefully after Azula before her friend could notice she was gone, and Zuko followed her with his eyes, his expression growing from consumed by fury to strangely wistful.

Harry let out the breath he had no idea he’d been holding, loudly, his own body relaxing as the tension in the air slowly faded away with the Slytherin girls’ disappearance. Wow. That was… _Well_.

“ _What_ a _bitch_ ,” he heard Ron hiss into his ear, incredulous. “Did you see that? She’ll fit right in with Malfoy’s lot and no question! And here I thought Slytherin’d lie low this year, pretend they don’t exist –“

Harry nodded, but did not reply. His eyes were too busy watching Zuko as the boy slumped back down and snatched his goblet, glaring eyes shooting daggers and once again glued to the table, all remaining thoughts of getting back to conversation apparently dead and gone. The other benders exchanged meaningful glances with one another, shifting even further away from the prince and whispering darkly among themselves. The two other Firebenders positively cowered, looking anywhere but at Zuko.

Well. The night was sure gonna be cheerful.

Just as the atmosphere threatened to sizzle and sparkle with intensity, Hermione cleared her throat loudly and said, much more jovially than necessary and sounding just a little histerical:

“Who wants some of this fruit tart?”

 

***

 

The feast ended with no further incidents. Other Asian students visited their table once or twice, including the ponytailed boy Sorted into Ravenclaw who turned out to be Katara’s brother. The moment he started talking, most of the Gryffindor boys immediately fell in love with him and by the time the feast ended, Sokka – that was his name – had acquired a whole load of new friends eager to hear about his hunting expeditions. Katara bore it with strained patience, while Yue clearly enjoyed Sokka’s displays and kept giggling throughout, which only urged the Water boy on.

McGonagall promised them all a big demonstration of bending the following evening after classes, and with that, the feast concluded. As Harry led the way to the Gryffindor tower along with his friends, he could hardly keep himself from grinning.

This was it. His first year of Hogwarts not interrupted by dark wizards plotting his doom. He could finally enjoy his normal, wizard life to the fullest. He could enjoy Hogwarts to the fullest. No more riddles, no juvenile detective work, no more worrying, no more sneaking out, no more living in fear of the unknown. The enormous relief that hit him along with the realization was nearly enough to make him laugh out loud out of sheer joy – but then the bending students would probably think he was crazy, which would not do.

But he was still grinning as Hermione, wielding a hastily-charmed list, directed everyone into their dormitories. Most of the benders said goodnight before disappearing upstairs to finally rest, but some of them remained in the Common Room, staring at the interior or chatting among themselves in their native language, which was fascinating to listen to. Harry understood – they were divided into the dormitories by age, so most of them would end up alone among the British students with no possibility to share their fresh impressions with their friends. Those who decided to stay behind would probably spend most of the night talking. Zuko did not count among this group – he’d been assigned into sixth-years’ dormitory and had stormed up there as soon as Hermione showed him the way. An Earthbender named Li was also to sleep there, but he decided to stay in the Common Room and Harry could not blame him – he wouldn’t have been too fond of staying up there alone with the brooding prince himself. He pitied the sixth-year boys already.

Just as he, Ron and the rest of his year were about to go up to their own dormitory, Katara pulled gently at his sleeve, her eyes imploring him to stay a while longer. Harry obliged, looking at her with keen interest. She seemed to be a very nice girl.

“Yeah? Do you have any questions?”

She smiled. “I probably will once we get started for real,” she said, but then her expression darkened and she glanced up at the door behind which Zuko had disappeared earlier. “Look, I noticed you were trying to be friends with Zuko. I should warn you right now that it’s not worth it, and your chances are slim at best. I don’t know that much about him since we bend different elements and don’t get to see the other benders that often, but I do know that his family is… off. Not the kind of people you’d probably like to associate with and, well, you saw his sister, so I don’t have to say anything about _her_. He’s not going to appreciate your efforts, that’s for sure. He’s a bit… well… different. Ever since he got that scar he’s been acting like a jerk every time I saw him. So, you know. Don’t mind him if he’d rather mope around in his room than socialize. That’s just the way his boat floats.”

She gave him another warm, encouraging smile, inclined her head at him in parting and turned around to join Yue on the couch. Harry watched her go, processing her words.

Her intentions were good and honest, that much was certain. She approached him in good faith. And he’d already figured out for himself that Zuko was not exactly a party animal, so he should probably just leave it at that and let the angry sod keep to himself. That was the sensible thing to do.

And so, with this resolution, the Boy Who Lived turned on his heel and chased his friends up to the dormitory, looking forward to a night of undisturbed sleep and dismissing all thoughts of brooding, angry jerks from his mind. It was only too bad, therefore, that Harry Potter had never been known for doing what was sensible.


	2. Sorting Toph

The stone beneath her feet was cold. She probably should have prepared for that – they did warn her of such a possibility. Walking down Hogwarts corridors barefoot in late Autumn had not been the brightest of ideas. But she would rather see properly than be all warm and snuggly, thank you very much, and if she couldn’t handle a little chill to her feet, she wasn’t Toph Bei Fong.

So instead of focusing on the cold creeping up her toes, she listened. Hogwarts had all sorts of interesting noises vibrating through its stone walls which echoed back to her in a way she had not had the possibility to experience before, and it was a different sort of stone here, she could tell. It was radiant. It felt… _alive_. Of course, all earth felt this way to a trained and powerful Earthbender and Toph had personally always thought of her element as having a life of its own, but this – ah, this was totally different. Hogwarts all but purred beneath her feet, feeding her memories of all that magic, cast around and confined within the walls for centuries, which had seeped right into the stone and flowed within the cracks like blood through human veins. This huge lump of elaborately carved rock was ancient and the memories it preserved, pulsing steadily with those weird spells and spilled potions and curses they had here, were still alive. Hogwarts was constantly shifting, even now – Toph could feel staircases moving somewhere on the upper floors. It had sprung to life by magic, and by magic it continuously thrived. It was almost as if this rock could _think_ for itself.

Toph smiled to herself as she let the names of her fellow students, called out one by one by the old proud lady, wash over her. Magical thinking rock. A _whole castle_ of magical thinking rock. 

_Bending here is going to be sweet._

She was so preoccupied with listening to this fascinating, whole new world of rock vibrations that she nearly missed her cue when the old lady finally read out her name.

Her whole name. Of course. Her parents _had_ to make sure their little girl got the treatment a Bei Fong heiress deserved, even if the said heiress stubbornly refused to stay in their good graces and chose to hop on this expedition despite her parents’ stern disapproval. Toph nearly spluttered at this. As if all these people here knew anything about her family – or cared, for that matter. She’d been rather banking on the fact that they didn’t. Not being a Bei Fong, not having to act as one and finally being able to go all the way with The Blind Bandit image she’d always wanted for herself had been the entire point of this trip.

Oh well. The fact that they now knew she had a surname didn’t change that, at least. They still had absolutely no idea what it entailed and that was more than fine by her.

Feeling her way across the deliciously vibrations-rich stone, she marched towards the stool with the old, talking Hat. Time to begin the farce.

She had no idea what to expect from the Hat, so when she suddenly felt a slightly prickly, itchy sensation along her temples and felt it move, she squirmed a little. And then, there was suddenly a voice inside her head, clear, crisp and even sounding tattered:

 _Hm. Interesting_.

Toph waited, deciding not to comment until the Hat said something more. She’d been told that stuff like that – old hats talking in people’s heads, exploding mirrors, talking pictures and other such mumbojumbo – happened all the time in the Western magical world. She was okay with that. They probably thought that seeing through Earthbending was strange.

The Hat was mumbling.

 _You have the heart of a lion, my girl_ , it said. _Strong. Stead-fast. Direct. You would do well in Gryffindor, where those with pure and strong wills achieve their greatness._

‘I’ve heard of Gryffindor,’ thought Toph, hoping the Hat could hear it. ‘It’s where all the goody-two-shoes go, isn’t it? All the big, strong heroes? Well, that sounds boring.’

The Hat seemed startled. _Boring?_ , it echoed. _I assure you it is anything but. However, I also detect very strong loyalty in you, and loyalty is what the Hufflepuffs value above anything else_. 

‘Yes, well, I’d gladly land in a house where people actually think for themselves rather than jump into action on their first impulse or follow anyone who says so, if that’s okay with you.’

 _A sharp intellect, too_ , the Hat went on. _A trait valued by both Ravenclaw and Slytherin. And ambitious, very ambitious, which is of the utmost importance for the House of the Snake. You would probably do well there, too. I sense great power in you, and Slytherin is all about power._

Toph nearly smiled under the Hat. ‘So you’re saying that Slytherin is full of power-hungry, ambitious mind-players? Well, I’ve been dealing with enough of those to know how to handle it, but I think I’ll pass. What about that R-thing?’

The Hat now seemed dismayed by Toph’s lack of cooperative spirit. Toph couldn’t care less. It was a bloody _hat_ , wasn’t it?

 _Those under the wing of Rowena Ravenclaw must possess a facility for learning, first and foremost_ , it replied, somewhat admonishingly. _Wit itself isn’t enough, one also needs genuine curiosity and thirst for knowledge to sharpen it with. You, my girl, are preoccupied with the need to achieve your own greatness, but it is not knowledge in and of itself that you seek. I daresay Ravenclaw is not for you._

Toph almost sighed, then stopped herself thinking the Hat probably wouldn’t sense it anyway. This was getting irritating.

‘So basically what you’re saying is I can either go to the big, brave heroes or into the snake pit, is that it? Because I’d really rather not go into that loyalty place. _Aang_ went there, and I don’t fancy spending most of my time among snuggly, cuddly hard-workers. ’

_Yes, I believe this does narrow it down somewhat, although your view on each of the houses seems rather simplistic. I do believe I’ve made my choice and from the looks of it, you have made up your own mind, too._

Toph nodded inside the Hat before she could stop herself. She did make her choice, and when the Hat yelled SLYTHERIN! out to the rest of the Hall, she smiled.

From what she’d heard about that Slytherin place, she could be sure of one thing at least – it was likely to be anything but boring.

And that annoying, bossy Fire princess went there, too, right? Well. Two could play the domination game, and Toph found herself looking forward to smashing the chessboard.


	3. Forming Alliances

Azula quickly scanned her new housemates lounging around in the green-awashed, leather-clad, shimmering Common Room, which seemed to be almost lazily drifting underwater with the soft, ethereal shadows of the lake beyond floating on the walls and dancing on them together with the flickering candle-flames. An optical illusion, no doubt, as the dungeon which was to serve as their new home for the time being could in no way have been connected directly to the lake should there be any real windows here, not the illusory magical imitations adorning the walls and peering tastefully from behind emerald draperies.

It was a curious effect and made her, a Firebender, slightly uncomfortable, but it was also elegant and spoke volumes about her new company. This was a wary, closed-in, hermetic world they have found themselves in, one that relied on the abstract, artificial, controllable notions more than on the harsh, inelegant, unorganized reality that loomed up there. Azula recognized this immediately. It was _familiar_.

“This place is gonna make me seasick,” Mai’s quiet drone floated to her right ear from behind and Azula smiled lightly.

“You’ll get used to it,” she whispered back. “Let’s break some ice, shall we?”

No reply came, but Azula wasn’t expecting any. Her eyes kept surveying the largely familiar, easily decipherable faces of the Slytherins, nearly all of which wore similar expressions of wariness and tense expectation. They recognized her as a kindred spirit, which to them meant nothing but a fellow predator; they were waiting for her first move. Then they would determine whether to pounce or lick her hand. _Cautious_. Good. That meant the majority wasn’t stupid.

It also meant that the recent war has left them with a lot of scars and a huge gap where once their easy, clearly-defined and promising lives had been. This was even better. It was the leverage she needed and now that she’d sensed it, all she needed to do was push.

Of course, now Azula needed to find the point that she would apply most pressure to for maximum effect. And there it was – a flash of pale blond in a leather armchair by the fireplace, a pair of cold, determined grey eyes observing her just as carefully as she had been observing him. Here was the player she wanted. The one who had lost the most and the one most likely to support her if she played her cards well.

And Azula always won at cards. Or any other game, for that matter.

“Which one of you is the heir of the great house of Malfoy?” asked the Princess; her quiet, confident voice fell like a stone into a pond, producing a ripple effect of faces turning one by one in the direction of the blond boy in the armchair, who did not rise, but who nodded slowly, acknowledging the address.

Azula smiled at him. She didn’t need to ask, of course – she had done her homework and knew all about the famous, distinguishing features of a Malfoy. But her words had the effect she wanted to produce; the recipient was interested now, his ego strategically stroked. He was willing to listen.

Carefully sculpting her expression so that it radiated nothing but good will, Azula sauntered over to where he sat, Mai silently trailing in tow. Both of them were followed by curious, calculating gazes and a touch of whispering in the floating air of the Slytherin dungeons; their lush, red robes vivid and offending in their stark contrast with the overall dark green of their grim surroundings, both Fire Nation girls stood out from the crowd like two roses blooming in a field of rosemary. This would have to be remedied. It was good for absorbing attention, but red and gold were not welcome here and Azula didn’t want to antagonize her new housemates so soon – that would be counterproductive. She would adapt. Her new Hogwarts gear was probably even now waiting for her to try it on and she would wear it proudly, assimilate into her surroundings, blend in, gain trust.

And she would start now.

Draco Malfoy, the fallen idol of Slytherin, the wavering pawn without a position and pathetically lost in a world crumbling to pieces around him, was eyeing them cautiously, his expression a carefully maintained mask of blankness that was ridiculously easy to see through.

 _You will be easy to play_ , thought Azula as she sat gracefully down on the sofa beside him, Mai reclining with a sigh next to her. _And you will be useful. For now._

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you,” she said out loud, coating her words with a discreet dose of sugar. “I have of course heard a great deal about your family. They say you have… influences.”

Now the boy was piercing her with a cold, grey gaze of resentful intensity, his mouth tightening at the corners as though he was trying to reign in whatever was starting to brew inside him. Azula almost rolled her eyes. _This_ was supposed to be the leader of Slytherin, the heir to a house known for its great politicians and manipulators? Please. She could have had his head roasted and served to her on a silver platter _in her sleep_. The kid knew next to nothing about poker faces and political maneuvering. Clearly he never had to keep his mouth shut until the world got a bit too big and scary for him, sailing on the reputation of his name until it no longer held any value higher than dirt. A petty player, crushed, humiliated and humbled by his most recent defeat and a pardon granted solely out of charity on the part of the winning side. Azula was _disappointed_.

“Used to would be more appropriate,” said Draco coldly, sitting back on the chair in a relaxed pose which was every inch a bluff. “You clearly haven’t heard the latest bit of news, so let me fill you in: my father’s imprisoned, my mother’s on probation. Salazar, _I’m on probation_. There isn’t a lot I can do for you… Princess.”

Ah, so he’d paid attention. Good. Azula’s eyes narrowed slightly as her smile morphed slowly into a smirk.

“Call me Azula, please,” she offered, extending her hand for him to shake; the boy was momentarily startled by this outwardness, but took the hand hesitantly and muttered his own given name in turn. “This is my good friend, Mai,” the Princess indicated her bored companion, who was currently toying with one of her senbon knives and thus, successfully if unwittingly, drawing the fearful attention of nearly everyone in the room. “And yes, I have been informed about the most regrettable occurrences of the past year. It is… unfortunate. Looks like the Malfoys have thrown in their lot with the wrong side.”

“You don’t know anything about it,” whispered Draco, his fingers tensing and slowly curling into fists. His eyes escaped from her, downcast and clouded with shame, humiliation, hurt. “You have no idea what it was like. What _he_ was like. And now…”

“… And now it’s all caving in around you, isn’t it?” whispered Azula, leaning in so that only he could hear her; grey eyes snapped back to meet hers, wide and lit up with a blaze of emotions fighting to get the upper hand. “I’m not judging your choices. Personally, I think you should have gone ahead with it. But you’ve chosen the wrong man to rally to. He may have been suitable at first, but it was clear even to us that he was slipping, losing his grip. Having an unhealthy obsession with killing teenagers is not exactly what I would call being ahead of one’s game… don’t you agree? This lamentable outcome could have been avoided if only he were more capable – and I don’t mean more powerful, but more… shrewd. Cunning.”

He was watching her intently now, swallowing her every word, anger and hurt and fear of the memories and loathing all getting mixed up in his gaze so transparently she would have laughed. He was clearly torn between darting far and away from her, lashing out at her for daring to judge and criticize, and nodding his head in agreement. She had him right where she wanted.

“I’m sorry that your family had to suffer through something like this,” she pressed on, her tone going softer still, her gaze deliberately expressing compassion. “I really am. It pains me to see great names such as yours degraded and scorned because of one man’s failure. You didn’t deserve this. Had you been subjects of the Fire Nation, we would never have let it happen.”

“… What do you want from me?” asked Draco softly after a spell of tense, sparkling silence. He leaned in, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I have no connections now. As far as magical Britain is concerned, I’m a criminal who is only walking around free because Harry sodding Potter is a big softie and has kindly decided not to throw me in jail. As far as half of Slytherin is concerned, I’m a traitor and a coward and don’t deserve to live. The other half I’m not sure of, but I’m not exactly the star around here… not anymore.”

“And this is exactly where we can help each other out,” Azula allowed her smirk to return. “What I want is information. I want you to be my guide here; to tell me who’s who, what’s what, how things work. To help me navigate not so much the place itself, but the people. I know you’re the perfect person for this, Draco. You’re intelligent and sharp. I could really use your insight.”

Cold, grey eyes narrowed in suspicion; blond head was cocked to the side as he regarded her silently for a long, stretching minute. The Fire Princess bore this scrutiny with her smirk never leaving, calm and composed as ever, making sure Draco saw what she wanted him to see. Mai continued to silently play with her knives next to her, never so much as looking at the Malfoy boy, but she was paying attention. She could probably read the situation just as well as Azula could; they should have a discussion about it later.

“And what do I get out of this deal?” asked Draco eventually, his voice going even lower. A shadow of a smirk fought its way hesitantly to his face, as though it had been smothered for so long now that its owner hardly knew how to bring it back. “What can a foreign Princess who’s only visiting do for me?”

“I could help you regain your old position in Slytherin, for starters,” offered Azula lightly. “Trust me, it’s not as hard as it seems. And why stop there? I could get you on top of the entire school. Don’t snort, it’s actually doable. Believe me. This is your last year of school – you need to make the most out of it. Make connections to help you out there. If you cooperate, I can guarantee you make some _really_ good ones. Besides,” she leaned in even closer, her smile going slightly predatory, “my Father has certain plans. Grand plans. He would really appreciate the support of the great names of Britain, and we in the Fire Nation know how to show gratitude.”

With that, she stood up, feigning a yawn and leaving with a light “Goodnight,” Mai a silent shadow behind her. Let him brew and mull it over. She had time. Azula was smiling to herself as she disappeared behind the fourth year girls’ dormitory, conscious of the curious glances following her every step.

What she was not aware of were a pair of milky-white, unfocused eyes narrowing in suspicion and a pair of bare feet set firmly on the floor, listening to the vibrations her retreating footsteps sent through the cold stone.


	4. Of Fate and Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a comment on my lj about Bumi having a conversation with Dumbledore's portrait.

"Headmaster Iroh," whispered Minerva McGonagall a tad breathlessly, standing outside her own headmistress's office and looking alarmingly relieved at the approach of someone she regarded as sane.

Iroh beamed at her. The respectable lady looked like she could use a good, heartfelt beam to once again ground her in reality and Iroh had long been of the opinion that even if it didn't cure the evils of this world, it did make them more bearable.

"My dear Headmistress," he greeted her jovially, coming to a halt at the top of the spiral staircase. "I believe you wanted to see me? You seem disturbed. What can be the matter?"

The look McGonagall gave him was even more alarming than the relief she had displayed at his approach. Iroh felt himself beginning to frown. He held the woman in front of him in high esteem – she was sensible, just and _very_ intelligent, if perhaps a bit too strict and proper at times, and she could be depended upon not to lose her head over a trifle. Given that, her current state of apparent confusion was all the more disturbing.

McGonagall chanced a quick look at the closed door to her study and took a couple of steps closer to Iroh.

"One of your colleaques came in for a social visit," she started to explain in a low voice, bending a little so she could be heard better. "Headmaster Bumi."

The smile found its way back to Iroh's face as naturally as though it had always lived there. Ah. Bumi. Suddenly, Minerva's discomfort made a lot more sense.

He reached out and patted the thin, withered hand of the Headmistress in a comforting gesture without even thinking about it. "Let me guess," he said warmly. "He's been… unconventional?"

" _Most_ unconventional," replied McGonagall, drawing herself back to her full height. "But that is not the problem, as such. One may say I am used to… unconventional behaviour in this office. My previous employer was believed to be insane on more than one occasion."

 _Albus Dumbledore_ , Iroh thought as he nodded in understanding. He had never met the man in person and was greatly sorry for it. From what he had heard about the legendary wizard, they would have had plenty to discuss over tea indeed. The old general would bet Dumbledore was a ginseng man.

"The problem," continued Minerva after a moment of foreboding silence, "is that Headmaster Bumi has bonded with my previous employer. He's been in that office discussing… various topics with him for the better part of the hour."

Iroh blinked in confusion – _Wait, what?_ – but before McGonagall could say anything to clarify, comprehension dawned, changing his comforting smile into an increasingly delighted one. _The portraits_. Of course. The portraits were magical and could communicate with the outside world, bearing an imprint of the person they depicted. Iroh had yet to learn how this particular wonder called magic worked, but he had already spent many most illuminating hours chatting with some of the portraits in the corridors of Hogwarts as he was walking by, and being consequently late to whatever appointment he'd been headed towards. And _naturally_ there was a portrait of Albus Dumbledore in the Headmistress's office. Which would mean…

Perhaps he could still have his long-awaited conversations over tea after all.

But that would have to wait. Headmistress McGonagall clearly wanted her office back. It would not hurt her to have a bit of spare time, though, as she was such a hard worker and deserved an early evening all to herself…

Iroh was always ready to aid the hard workers of this world.

"I shall see what can be done," he assured her, doing his best to radiate good will and helpfulness. The woman smiled at him fleetingly and turned to open the old, wooden door.

The two of them peered inside just when Bumi started cackling.

"Don't tell me about your lemon drops!" he yelled, waving a threatening finger at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, which regarded him with some amusement from behind a pair of half-moon spectacles. "Rock-candy is the stuff. You don't know naught about sweets until you try it!"

Iroh exchanged a meaningful glance with Minerva McGonagall, who shrugged in confusion. "Let me handle this," offered the old man in a whisper, stepping into the room. "Why won't you rest for a bit? Make it an early evening? I'm sure it will help."

When the venerable lady nodded reluctantly and disappeared behind the closed door once more, Iroh was already smiling to himself.

 _I should get Gyatso_ , he thought as he approached the odd, bickering pair. _He'd definitely want in on this_.

 

***

 

When Minerva McGonagall peered into her office later that night, she found, to her utmost surprise, that not only wasn't it lacking the distinguishable bulk of Headmaster Bumi, but the room had also gained two other unexpected additions. Seated in front of Albus Dumbledore's portrait were, apart from the senile Earthbender, Headmasters Iroh and Gyatso, a cup of tea steaming before each, a half-emptied plate of muffins on the floor between them and the portrait, their voices floating soft and serene in the flickering candlelight. The Dumbledore on the portrait had also acquired tea in some mysterious way and was now sipping it slowly while nodding sagely at Gyatso, who was saying:

"… young men. Fate is cruel indeed to force such grave responsibilities on children, but I'm afraid there are certain laws of this universe which must not be influenced and all we can do is shield as much as we can before it's time…"

"There is nothing quite as challenging as moulding a young hero," the portrait of Albus agreed, a sad expression on his face. "I'm afraid I haven't been fair in my own endeavors and that I had hurt the boy greatly. But it was not to be helped."

"Once our dear ones have been touched by the spirits, there is little we can do," mused Iroh softly, his expression uncharacteristically grave. "We can only nudge them gently in the right direction, little by little, and hope. But I trust in those boys. My nephew has a difficult road ahead of him, but I believe he shall find the right path in time."

"And you will be so proud," Dumbledore's portrait smiled at him subtly. "Watching young Harry's growth, his quest, the milestones he's experienced… It was a wonder beyond words."

Slowly, McGonagall withdrew back into the corridor and closed the doors behind her as softly as she could, sealing the four men inside back in their world of tea, candlelight and destinies.


	5. Ron vs Sokka, Round I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a commenter on my lj who requested a food eating contest between the boys. The idea was too epic to pass up on.

No one expected this day to be any different from the other, monotonous days of post-war Hogwarts. Nothing in the shape of the clouds predicted an Apocalypse; not even professor Trelawney could have read of an impending disaster in the hazy mists swirling in her crystal ball. The rain drizzled down on the school grounds in a way which was neither romantic nor foreboding, but rather dull. Which only serves to show that nature is sometimes plain stubborn and refuses to play along with the narrative.

For disaster was indeed about to strike in the midst of the unsuspecting Hogwarts student body.

It had started out innocently enough, as all such things do, with Hermione glancing from Sokka, who decided to accompany his sister to breakfast that morning, to Ron, seated by her side as usual. She glanced some more, her eyes going wide and beginning to sparkle with amusement. At length, she decided to voice her observation:

"Wow, Ron. Seems like you've got some serious competition here. Sokka's already eaten more and faster than you and he's still eating."

It all went downhill from there.

Thinking back on the whole affair, Hermione felt like smacking herself. _Of course_ Ron would take it as a blow to his manly pride. Of course he would then challenge Sokka to a food-eating contest. And naturally Sokka would accept, manly bravado positively sizzling in the air. And really, it was only to be expected that anyone sitting close enough to overhear both boys – not that it was hard to overhear them, on account of all the shouting – would then whisper excitedly and spread the news all over the Hall, so that soon every single student at Hogwarts gathered around their little spot to cheer for their favourite.

"SO-KKA! SO-KKA! SO-KKA!" some of them would chant, mostly the Ravenclaws, but some people from other houses as well and pretty much all of the Asian guests.

"RON! RON! RON!" the loyal Gryffindors and most of Hogwarts would counter-attack, bravely standing their ground to support their very own.

Sokka, already carried far away beyond the reach of reason on the waves of crowd idiocy and relishing the attention, stuck out his chest and grinned, snatching a toast. "I'm the meat and sarcasm guy," he announced, one foot on the table. "There's _no way_ anyone can match me in _eating_!"

"We'll see about that!" roared Ron, snarling like a tiger, his face nearly matching his hair in colour.

Hermione wanted to run for dear life, but it was too late – the swarms of students pressed up against each other formed an impenetrable wall shielding her from the world of reason. She glanced over at Harry, beseeching rescue, but the boy was already patting Ron's back, laughing and cheering his friend on. Zuko, the only one left not likely to get involved in the overwhelming idiocy, was nowhere to be spotted. Desperately seeking something akin to common sense, her gaze met Katara's. Sokka's sister rolled her eyes in a very meaningful way indeed and, to drive the point home, hid part of her face in her palm. Hermione sighed, mimicking her expression. In that one, tiny second, she knew they had bonded over the unfathomable stupidity of males and that she had a new friend for life.

A pandemonium filled with sandwiches, bacon, eggs, sausages, puddings, pie, fruit, vegetables and other things was unleashed, but in the end, the contest remained unresolved. Everyone decided it was time to call it a draw when Sokka suddenly puked all over some Slytherin boy and Ron looked like he was about to keel over. Katara and Hermione both helped the sickly, belching contestants to the hospital wing, exchanging silent messages with each other over the boys' heads, most of which could be summarized by: _Men_.

By the time Sokka and Ron had gotten back from Madame Pomfrey, they were already talking about round two. Hermione began to seriously fear for their sanity. But then Sokka bumped Ron good-naturedly on the shoulder and Ron shoved him back, laughing, after which the Water Tribe boy offered to give Ron a lesson with his boomerang. Hermione smiled.

Looks like she wasn't the only one who had bonded that day.


	6. The Giant Squid Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for my good friend [errantknightess](http://errantknightess.livejournal.com) and her sister, who gave me this wonderful idea in the first place.

Whenever anyone in his new house, Hufflepuff, asked whether Aang felt homesick for his Air Temple back in Asia, the young Avatar would reply with a thoroughly genuine "No." He didn't feel homesick. He couldn't understand why anyone would waste their time pining for the home they'd come back to soon enough anyway while there were so many new, incredibly fun things to explore in this fresh, exotic world. Aang had been excited for this trip ever since he'd learned about it from Monk Gyatso and now that he was actually here, he was having the time of his life.

Everything was so _different_. Not only the magic, but the people; the mindsets; the beliefs; the lifestyles. The thrill of novelty stirred Aang's deepest spirit, touching the very roots of his restless nature. Even though the Air Nomads had ceased to be very nomadic once Avatar Tsutan and the Council of Four decided to retreat into hiding and seal away the four islands – known subsequently as the Harmony Archipelago – within the Great Shield, the spirit of restlessness and adventure had never left the hearts of generations of Airbenders to come; for, as children and wielders of Air, they had this very same spirit embedded into the core of their nature. It seemed to have taken especially deep roots in Aang, who, after being confined to the Archipelago and his own Air Temple for most of his life, now greedily swallowed each new sight, scent and noise; threw himself into the whirlwind of experience Hogwarts had to offer; and had trouble falling asleep every night because there was still so much more to memorize and absorb.

In short, he thought Hogwarts was _brilliant_. Possibly the most brilliant of all things brilliant the world had to offer.

Not insignificant in forming such a glowing opinion was the fact that his rapture was reciprocated and that he, himself, was also regarded as brilliant by the people of Hogwarts. Aang liked attention. Maybe a little too much according to some people, but there was nothing wrong in making new friends wherever he went, right? And if said friends thought he was smashing, well then, the Avatar saw no reason not to encourage this opinion. It wasn't Aang's fault that he liked people and people liked him back. Just as it wasn't his fault that some girls chose to follow him around in their free time and enthusiastically clapped at his Airbending tricks.

One could even look at it as Aang fulfilling his Avatar duties. Wasn't it his role to keep people happy? His Airbending and stories and jokes made a considerable portion of Hogwarts happy. So there.

Of course, he still had the Avatar training to attend to apart from the few Hogwarts classes they were obligated to take; they had to be sneaky about it, too, training either at insanely early hours of the morning – running the risk of being discovered by Firebenders if one decided to have some morning practice at sunrise – or, more often given master Pakku's affinity to the moon, so late into the night that sometimes, it turned into early. That put a bit of a damper on the trip, along with the fact that he had to keep his Avatar identity a secret for nebulous reasons the elders did not want to disclose. This, Aang felt really down about. How cool would it be to impress his new friends with that, not just his Airbending? He was sure it would have boosted the fun factor by about 100%.

Maybe then being the Avatar could have been actually enjoyable…

But there was nothing for it – none of the elders wanted to hear about him giving away the big secret and Pakku just Looked at him whenever he tried to bring it up. Pakku's Looks were not to be trifled with.

Aang enjoyed himself like he seldom did back home even despite those drawbacks, anyway, and was determined not to let the elders' ominous, vague remarks trouble him. They would explain when they thought the moment was right and then there would be plenty of time to freak out. But for now…

"And so here I was, riding the elephant koi and having a blast, when suddenly, my friends on the shore started screaming something and waving at me like crazy," he was saying in the Hufflepuff common room, an adoring group of his new Hogwarts friends huddled in a rapt semi-circle around him, their eyes wide and their mouths open. "I couldn't hear them so I just kept on riding the koi, but then I saw that giant shadow underwater gaining in on me and that was when I realized the elephant koi were not the only thing living in that lake… There was a monster there, too!"

One of the Airbenders who were also sorted into Hufflepuff snickered at that. "Your face when you saw those giant fins," he laughed; Aang laughed along with him.

"Yeah, I was terrified!" he admitted happily. "That was the Unagi, a great water snake-like monster! And guess what I did?"

"You ran away, as any sane person should?" guessed Samantha Burton, a sixth-year who had been listening to Aang's tale from her place in the armchair away from the group.

"No!" Aang's chest swelled. "I rode it!"

The _ooooh_ 's and _aaaah_ 's that followed were very satisfactory indeed. Aang grinned and proceeded to describe how it felt riding the Unagi with a terrified audience watching from the shore of the main Earth Kingdom island, when a Hogwart's student – a tall boy of about fifteen who had just entered the Common Room – coughed and said:

"I wonder if that's anything like riding our Giant Squid. I don't think anyone's tried that yet."

Aang's head snapped to him immediately. "A giant squid?"

"Yeah," the Hufflepuff boy seemed surprised that Aang hadn't heard of it before. "It lives in the lake. You can glimpse it sometimes. Harry Potter must have seen it during the Triwizard Tournament a few years back, you could ask him."

Aang's eyes gleamed.

 

***

 

The shores of the Black Lake rarely saw such crowds as on the night a week after the aforementioned conversation, with a half-full moon lending its silvery glow to the grounds and tinting the edges of clouds white. The sneaky excursion was supposed to be a secret, so naturally, as per the sanctioned tradition of Hogwarts, half the school had gathered to watch the silly Airbender with the arrow tattoos attempt a feat that no one, not even the celebrated Weasley twins or the Marauders of the previous generation, attempted before.

Excited whispers rippled through the air as more and more dark, cloaked figures made their way towards the cliff which Aang was supposed to jump from; tiny lights from wandpoints flickered in the dark like fireflies as students lit the way for themselves and their colleagues, joined here and there by the more daring glows of open flames, carried like torches by the Firebenders in their open palms.

"Is he really going to do it?"

"I bet you five sickles he won't."

"Maybe the Squid won't come out."

"He's not going to last ten seconds."

"A fiver says he'll last twenty."

"You're on."

Other voices, murmuring in an exotic tongue previously unheard on the grounds of Hogwarts, whispered differently:

_"That Squid of theirs can't be worse than the Unagi."_

_"Aang's done many idiotic things before, but this one takes the cake."_

_"Those stupid Airbenders."_

_"Show-off."_

_"Is Katara around? She needs to get her scolding mode on and talk some sense into the kid before he kills himself."_

Katara _was_ around – standing on the edge of the cliff, more precisely, with Aang, her brother and Yue and some other Airbenders plus the students who had arrived early, putting her hands on her hips and, in fact, getting her scolding mode on.

"No, Aang, you can't do this," she was saying for about the fiftieth time that night. "It's too dangerous. You don't know these waters, you don't know what lives in them and you don't know anything about this Giant Squid.

"Besides," she continued, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently when Aang appeared to have ignored her, "it's against the rules."

"Granger's found her soulmate," whispered someone in the crowd and a few people snickered, but Katara failed to hear it, busy channeling the full force of her disapproval.

"But Katara, I have to try it now," Aang grinned at her in the light of a lantern he brought with him. "I can't disappoint all these people."

He gestured at the growing crowd of darker shadows painted against the background of the night, at the gathered spots of light, at the sea of hushed, excited whispers. Katara swept an angry look over all of them.

"All these people," she said in English, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "should be in bed now, not wandering around the grounds in secret! What if anyone catches us? What if they _don't_ and you hurt yourself?"

"I'll be fine," Aang assured her, his eyes now drifting towards the silent black mirror of the water, where a silvery path of moonlight led the way to the other shore, disturbed by tiny ripples. "They said the Squid is friendly."

"Who said so?" Katara wasn't giving up. "The people who've ridden it themselves?"

"No!" The grin the Airbender flashed her was brilliant even in this darkness. "Because no one's tried that yet!"

"And for a good reason! Aang, you can't risk your life like that!"

"Stop being so dramatic," interrupted Sokka, his arm around Yue who remained silent, her expression worried as she gazed at the watery reflection of the moonlight.

"Yeah," a firmer voice detached itself from the crowd as the small figure of Toph Bei Fong stepped into their circle. "It's pretty annoying. Let Twinkle-Toes have his fun, Sugar Queen."

Katara sent them both a death glare. "You're not helping. And I fail to see what about this whole thing can be described as 'fun'."

"You're kidding, right?" Sokka stared at her with incredulity. "Me, I don't really care either way, but clearly these English people are starved for some entertainment. Go with my blessing, buddy."

This was directed at Aang, who in the meantime started shedding the layers of his Airbender novice robes. The boy grinned at his friend and gave him a thumbs-up.

Katara rolled her eyes in helpless exasperation. "I should have told Hermione," she whispered. "Or the Prefects. Anyone."

"A few of the Prefects seemed to have gotten invites anyway," says Toph, smirking. "I can hear them betting in the crowd."

"Oh for the love of…"

"Good, we made it!"

Three figures pushed their way to the forefront, one of them wielding a lit-up wand – soon, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, followed closely by Ginny Weasley, emerged into view, adding Harry's _Lumos_ spell to the few sources of light by the shore.

"Hiya," said Ron cheerfully, panting. It appeared they'd been running all the way from the castle. "Thought we'd be too late. Had to find someone to keep Hermione occupied."

"Are you going to help me convince them to drop this nonsense?" asked Katara, but her voice wasn't all that hopeful – Ron had, after all, engaged in a food-eating contest with her brother a few days ago. He did not exactly figure on her list of sensible people and neither, coming to think of it, did Harry.

"Nope," said Gryffindor grinned at her sheepishly. "Sorry, Katara. We just wanted to see this."

"I can't believe it!" The Waterbender threw her hands up in the air. "I thought you, of all people," here she pointed at Harry, "would agree with me that taking pointless risks like that is… pointless!"

Potter shrugged. "I'm not exactly the good boy everyone'd like to think I am," he confessed with a small smile. "I've broken more school rules than most of the students here combined. I'm not going to lecture anyone about safety. Aang, remember what I told you about the Grindylows and Merepeople and you'll be fine."

Katara stared at him, her hands tightening into fists; a few waves marred the immaculate surface of the lake below them. "You… advised him?!"

"Yeah," Harry seemed entirely unapologetic. "If he's going to do this, he should be prepared." He patted Aang on the back and the Airbender grinned at him. "You ready?"

"I'm always ready!" replied the Avatar cheerfully, then gathered the air into his trademark Air Scooter and jumped on it to hover a little into the air so as to be seen by everyone. "Thanks for coming, guys! I'm going to jump now! Keep your fingers crossed!"

"No, Aang, DON'T!" shouted Katara, but it was too late; amidst a hushed but enthusiastic applause Aang dissolved the Air Scooter, ran to the edge of the cliff and threw himself into the air, a small, darker shadow flying through the night, then disappeared in the waters of the Black Lake with a splash that seemed to touch the sky.

Katara gritted her teeth.

"I'm going after him," she announced and almost started getting ready when a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

It was Harry. He stood to the side and shielded her as the crowd pressed on them and spread excitedly along the cliff to get a better look; he was still wearing that half-smile, his usually shaggy black hair tousled by the wind.

"Let him," he whispered, gazing at the dark waters beneath. "He only wants to have some fun. There's nothing wrong with that. He'll be all right."

"And how do you know?!" Katara tried to shake him off, but Harry just stood there, unperturbed.

"I swam in that lake," he said simply. "I know what it's like. If anything happens, there's wizards and benders here on the shore ready to help. There's enough danger to make it exciting, but not much more than that.

"I know real danger," he said then, in a lower tone which sounded strangely wistful. "I've tasted more than my share of it. This… this is playing. I wish I could have done more of that. Had a… normal childhood. But I can have some fun now, and I intend to. I'm going to help other people enjoy themselves, too." When he looked to Katara after that, the smile was back on, more fully. "Stop worrying so much, Katara. You guys know how to handle yourselves, I've seen it. Aang's a badass, just like the rest of you. Nothing bad's gonna happen."

Katara opened her mouth as though she was about to argue some more, but then an excited, collective cheer split the night air and a splash resounded through the lake. The girl turned to see Aang, atop a… a creature that could only be the Giant Squid – very aptly named indeed – it's countless tentacles swinging back and forth, splashing the water at everyone, it's monstrous head peeking out from under the surface.

And Aang was laughing, his sweet, boyish laugh echoing in the night among the shouts of "Yeah!" and "All right!", clinging to the wet, sticky skin of the monster, waving at everyone against the moonlight. He then yelled "Yip-yip" at the squid as though it was Appa, but clearly the creature understood, for it started going around the lake in circles to the cheers and delight of the gathered audience.

Harry joined in the clapping and cheering, whooping together with Ron and Ginny, as Katara stood silent on the edge of the cliff and watched as her friend, the Avatar, enjoyed himself, his laugh, so dear and familiar by now, filling her ears.

She smiled.


	7. The Big Boys Rant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for Squidcats who very rightly pointed out that this series needs more estrogen. What came out is probably an insult to all of my feminist principles, but I hope you like it anyway.

There were many things Katara loved about Hogwarts. Her letters home were filled with enthusiastic descriptions of talking portraits, food appearing out of nowhere, candles suspended in thin air, students levitating their books behind them so they didn't have to carry them, flying broomsticks, bubbling potions, lessons in astronomy at midnight, unicorns, ghosts and other wonders which she was slowly beginning to get used to, but which could still leave her awestruck – and, it has to be said, slightly jealous. It was a place of wonders, Hogwarts, especially for someone like her, who had never ventured outside the confines of the mini-world her own tradition carved out for itself; and who was for the first time experiencing not only the joys and marvels of Western magic, but also the sense of discovery, of having her eyes opened and her self submerged – literally – in the Other. For a mind as open, curious and inquisitive as Katara's, this trip was almost like coming of age.

And yet, amidst all this wonder, there were things about Hogwarts Katara felt were – well, less than stellar.

Bathrooms, for example.

Ok, they were comfortable. That went without question. And they provided instant hot water, which was always nice. But to Katara, who was used to being surrounded by her element at its most powerful and who lived in a world literally borrowed from water, they were also – incredibly stifling.

Tap, tap, tap, the droplets fell one by one into the giant tub. Trickle-trickle, went the steady water in the pipes, subdued, tamed, _domesticated_. Swish-slosh, whispered the calm liquid as Katara's body moved in it, the surface broken by nothing save for the ripples she herself made as she swam from one end of the tub – or was it a swimming pool? – to the other.

The girl tried hard not to think of the water as _enslaved_ , but the word floated to her mind unbidden every time she came to have a bath.

She couldn't wait for winter to come. They said it would be soon. Already the evenings glistened with frost and whispered of coming snow – she could feel its call in the air whenever she opened the window at night. Soon, water would cover everything and she would feel free again, she would be surrounded by true, wild, powerful water, and she wouldn't feel homesick anymore. And she would show everyone what water can really do.

But for now…

The big bathroom was empty – Katara made sure to come at the right time – so the Waterbender wasted no time in practicing some light combat forms, nothing too taxing, but enough to make her feel pleasantly warmed-up and to give her muscles the stretch they needed before going to bed. She was in the middle of a light-weight Octopus when, suddenly, the door behind her opened and voices boomed, ricocheting from the vast, vaulted ceiling.

"… a clue! I wish I could just grab him by the hair and shake him until his brain comes out of hiding."

Katara paused in her stance, halting the water just as she was about to lash a stream out in the direction of the stained-glass windows, and turned around.

Standing by the entrance and staring at her with their mouths half-open were Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley.

"Hi," Katara smiled at them and gave a little wave, to which the water responded. "Sorry about that. I was just practicing."

"Oh, no, we're sorry we interrupted!" Hermione clapped suddenly, giving a little laugh. "That was amazing! Could you do it again?"

"Sure," the Waterbender's smile grew. "But you two were talking about something. Wouldn't you rather be left alone?"

"Nah," Ginny resolutely made her way to the shower stalls, her movements jerky and forceful, her stride positively singing of negative tension. "I just want to have a good whine. I don't care who listens. You might want to run for dear life, though, it's not gonna be pleasant."

"What are you going to whine about?"

The look Ginny gave her in response communicated everything that needed communicating, and the single word she uttered only solidified what was already clear:

"Boys."

Katara smiled in sympathy, letting the water around her splash back into the pool. "I'm all ears then," she said, and meant it.

In no time at all the two Gryffindor girls joined Katara in the huge bathtub, Hermione sighing softly as the hot water embraced her, Ginny – seething and fuming. Had she been a Firebender, the temperature in the room would have been close to boiling right about now.

Katara liked both of them. Ever since the stupid food fight between Ron and Sokka – earlier than that, in fact – she held a deep respect for Hermione and had quite a few very pleasant conversations with her about the important stuff, like sexism and the house elves and the universal imbecility of men. Ginny, too, was really inspiring, with her fiery character and obvious strength, independence, wit and a temper to match the outstanding colour of her hair. As far as Katara could tell, her affable feelings were reciprocated – and if she hadn't had proof of it before, she had it now, embodied in Ginny's willingness to share her angry Boys Rant.

Nothing made for a better bonding time that a Boys Rant. Katara knew. She had had a few in her life.

"So," Ginny started, having dived and resurfaced with her hair sticking to her face, "you know how Harry Potter and I are basically a thing?"

"Well…" Katara hesitated – this was something nobody was quite clear on.

"Right, I know how this looks," Ginny sighed and rested her head on the edge of the tub, closing her eyes. "We don't date, we don't snuggle, we don't kiss… Looks like we've broken up. But it's not like that."

"Technically, though, it is," corrected her Hermione, who was reaching for shampoo. "You did dump him, Gin."

"No I didn't!" protested the redhead vehemently, splashing water. "I simply told him not to take me for granted and to tell me when he's figured out what he bloody well wants!"

"Wait," Katara cocked her head to the side. "I don't think I follow the logic here. You dumped him but… you didn't?"

Ginny sighed again, her body descending in the tub until all that was visible above the surface were her eyes and the top of her head. When she came out again for air, Katara was struck by an idea.

"Hang on," she said, bending the water in a single stream with a delicate flick of her wrists. "That's how we do it in the Water Tribes… You go first, Ginny."

She let the stream of water settle on Ginny's hair, and then, using very subtle movements of her wrists and fingers, she started washing it, taking care to make sure the water massaged the scalp.

"Oooh," the other girl sighed in contentment this time. "This feels great. Can you do that with shampoo as well?"

"Sure, just open the bottle… And explain. What's the deal here?"

"That's really amazing, Katara. Thanks." Ginny visibly relaxed in the water as Katara washed her hair with Waterbending and Hermione looked on, visibly impressed.

Good. Katara firmly believed that getting all worked up because of a boy was bad for digestion.

"The problem with Harry," started Ginny after taking a deep breath, her voice noticeably calmer but still carrying an edge of frustration, "is that he has this hero complex. Don't get me wrong, that's also one of his most wonderful qualities, but it got really frustrating during the war when he thought I was in danger for dating him and decided to dump me for my own good. Because I was such a fragile little flower, you know. And it's not like I had any say in this. He just… went and gallivanted away with Ron and Hermione and it never even once crossed his mind that maybe, just maybe, I'd want to help, too. I can't even begin to tell you how much it hurt, to be left behind like that. By everyone."

Out of the corner of her eye, Katara caught Hermione guiltily looking away and tentatively touching Ginny's wet shoulder. Ginny sighed.

"Anyway," she resumed after a pause which even to Katara felt pretty poignant, "now that the war is over you'd think that everything should go back to normal, right? And it did at first. But even though I was worried sick about Harry and I still admire him for everything he did, he just… assumed we'd get back together. Like it was the most natural thing. Like, _obviously_ I would go back to him after he left me behind. And I did, because I love him and waited for him, but his attitude… well, it pissed me off. He didn't even _ask_. And then we were dating and it was good to get this feeling of normalcy back, it after a while it seemed that normalcy was all he wanted. Which I can understand, but… He didn't make any effort. He kept saying how I made him smile, how I made him feel good, how I helped him forget… And I was glad, but at the same time I kept thinking: but what about _me_? What about how _I_ feel? Is that all I'm going to be: a balm for Harry's wounds? This stereotypical female healer figure with no purpose in life other than making her man feel good?"

Katara nodded in understanding, motioning for Hermione to turn around and moving on to her hair. _This_ she could visualize quite clearly. It was not how things were supposed to be.

"So finally I told him we should have some room to breathe, to think things through. That he should figure out what he wants. And you know what he did?" Ginny's voice rose again with indignation as she turned back to face Katara. "He just nodded! Sure, he looked sad and confused, but he bloody nodded and said 'Ok, Gin.' And that was that!"

"So you're waiting for him to confront you over this, to man up and show you that he cares," said Katara, fully getting the picture. "But he's clueless and now you can't make the first move because it'll defeat the purpose."

"Exactly," Ginny leaned back against the edge of the tub and looked up at the vaulted ceiling. "But he's been clueless for so long, he doesn't do anything and I just… I don't know."

"I still don't think it was a good idea, Ginny," said Hermione, who had submitted to Katara's Waterbending ministrations with a happy sigh. "You should have just talked to him. Do it before it's too late and some other girl decides that Harry's well and truly available."

Ginny's expression visibly darkened – for a moment, she reminded Katara of Princess Azula. "Let those floozies try," she murmured ominously.

Ok, Katara definitely didn't want to be anywhere near Ginny if some girl really did try to make a move on Harry Potter. It probably wouldn't be pretty.

"I'd never try anything like that with Ron," Hermione chuckled. "I love your brother, Ginny, but he'd be way too doltish to figure it out. When I'm upset with him, I yell at him good and proper so that he knows precisely what's going on."

"Yeah, well, that's different. You two've been yelling at each other basically since you've met."

"True," acquiesced Hermione, shrugging. "I yelled at him just the other day, actually, when he didn't want to help me out with the tutoring club. Said he needed to help Harry with Quidditch. As if. Harry doesn't need any help with Quidditch, but the kids do need the tutoring and it's good for the school spirit, all houses including Slytherin studying together… So I told Ron as much. And then he had the decency to pull the war card on me! Said he deserved a break after Voldemort! He made it out as though I was working him like a mule!"

Katara winced. "Yeah, I remember that," she said, settling back in the water. "I was there in the Common Room when you had this row."

"Sorry you had to see that," Hermione smiled apologetically. "Most of Gryffindor is already used to us fighting."

"At least you communicate," muttered Ginny. "If Harry doesn't make his move before Christmas, I'll just have to make my own."

"You girls are making me feel glad I don't have a boyfriend," commented Katara, swimming lazily from one end of the tub to the other.

"Oh, but I bet you have plenty of candidates for the post," Hermione sent her a small wink.

"Yeah, well." Katara shrugged and dove underwater, resurfacing on its other side. "I don't think I'm ready for this sort of thing."

 _Definitely not_ , she thought. Not after Jet. But if she started talking about _him_ now, they would never leave this bathroom. And the water in the pipes might just explode.

Sometimes, Katara believed that boys were created for the sole purpose of aggravating women. It was during times like these that she felt justified in her belief.

"And it's not like we have ample dating opportunities back home," she murmured, idly bending the water around her fingers. "Every element has its own school, you know. We see the other benders only once in a while, on once-a-month gatherings, so we can practice together and learn about the other three cultures. But those only last a week tops, and then it's back to our little islands. And the Water Tribe boys… well, let's just say that most of them still think it's a woman's chief responsibility to darn their socks and wash their clothes. I want to bash their heads against walls half the time, never mind dating."

"Well, maybe their stay here will show them how the world really works," Ginny smiled reassuringly. "I already overheard your brother getting hell for some sort of sexist remark at the Ravenclaw table. There's hope."

"If the Ravenclaw girls can reform Sokka, then yeah, the rest of the tribe should be easy." Katara allowed herself a small chuckle. "I really hope you figure things out with Harry soon, Ginny. He really seems like a nice boy… Even if he is hanging out with Zuko."

"I don't think he's all that bad," said Hermione neutrally, watching Katara's bending. "Do you have any particular reasons to dislike him so much?"

"Well, I don't see anything to like," countered Katara; the water reacted a little too violently, the wave getting bigger than she had intended. "Every time I saw him, he was this high and mighty, standoffish brat, scoffing and glaring at everyone and never condescending to speak to anyone. He may be better than Azula, but only by comparison. The Fire people… They're not exactly pleasant. And they have strange ideas about their culture being better than everyone else's. It's really irritating."

The two Gryffindor girls exchanged meaningful glances, but Katara was too absorbed in her own musings to pay attention.

 _Savages_ , some of the Fire kids once called them. Water savages. And Princess Azula…

No. She had no business with the Fire folk. She only wished that the pair of royal brats hadn't come along. There was no doubt in Katara's mind that they were up to something, something bad, and it made it so much worse knowing that Aang was here too, so close…

"Well, I think we should get going," announced Hermione after a spell of silence. "Come on. I still have some books to look into."

"Ok," Ginny agreed and the two of them scrambled out of the tub, reaching for their towels.

"Aren't you coming, Katara?" asked Hermione, getting dressed; Katara shook her head in response, submerging herself almost completely in the water.

"I want to practice some more. You two go ahead. I'll see you later."

"All right then. Goodnight."

"Bye!"

Ginny gave her a little wave when she left and closed the door behind her; Katara waved back, smiling, and as soon as the girls were gone, launched herself back into her forms, more ferociously this time. With the water swirling, slashing and flowing right through her, giving an outlet to her sudden unease and anxiety, she could slowly feel the tension leaving her.

Soon, she managed to stop thinking about the royal Fire siblings altogether.


	8. Girl Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The important thing about this one is that it takes place a bit later in the story, after Harry and Zuko had a chance to get to know each other a little and already had a bonding experience or two, including the "Quidditch Incident" mentioned here (those WILL be described later). Their bromance which emerged from writing endeared me quite a lot somehow and is probably my favourite thing about the series.
> 
> This is actually the third piece I wrote for this verse and posting it right after "The Big Boys Rant" is purely coincidental, I swear.

"So," Harry cleared his throat and took a sip of Madame Rosmerta's trademark butterbeer, smiling at his companion from above the foam. "What's up with you and that gloomy chick?"

Zuko looked up at him from his own glass, which he'd been gingerly holding before risking taking a sip. He didn't smile – by then Harry'd learned that a genuine smile from Zuko was something extremely rare and reserved for special occasions only – but his bright amber eyes did glisten with a shade of warmth before the softer expression was replaced by the customary frown.

"You mean Mai?" he mumbled, taking a tiny sip. "Why do you want to know?"

The tone was curt and not exactly inviting, but Harry recognized the hesitant opening. It meant that Zuko felt strongly about the topic, but would sooner drop dead than admit it and Harry would have to coax the information out of him slowly. Which, granted, wasn't much, but it was still so much more than he would have expected from their first encounter that Harry nearly grinned. Ever since the Quidditch incident he'd been little by little gaining more and more of Zuko's confidence, and he decided that this was as good an occasion as any to test the new waters they'd tentatively sailed into.

And he could appreciate the company, too. Ron and Hermione had tried their most not to exclude him, but they did need their privacy at this stage of their relationship and Harry didn't want them to suffer on his account, especially now when the air around them positively sparkled with sexual tension. It was best to let them savour their rare dates in Hogsmeade in private. As for Ginny…

He would really rather not think about Ginny.

"Well, it's pretty obvious you two have a thing for each other," Harry said casually, shrugging and trying to make it sound as off-hand as possible. "I mean, it's not like I'm good at reading that girl, because to me it seems like she has this one expression she uses on the world all the time, but she does seem to like you. And you like her too, don't you? And, um, I kinda heard you two talking outside the Fat Lady portrait a few days ago. Why won't you just make it official?"

Zuko winced and hid himself behind his butterbeer, his brows furrowing as they always did when someone tried to push a topic he was not comfortable with. Which was nearly all the time, coming to think of it. Harry could almost swear he'd never met another person with such a short temper and so constantly wound up, and given the strange people he'd met in his life so far, that was saying something. Zuko was rather like a whole crate of Weasley Fireworks, with a very short string to set him off. But, strange as it may have been, Harry realized he enjoyed it to some extent, once he saw past the temper tantrums and learned to notice what lay beneath. There was something profoundly honest about Zuko and his inner rage, something so simple and straightforward, though in a tortured sort of way, that it was almost comforting to have someone as open and awkward as that around. It tended to get infuriating at times, but was certainly a break from all of the two-facedness and conceited ass-licking he'd been surrounded by recently. In a world still engulfed in corruption and hypocrisy, Zuko was refreshing.

Sometimes, Harry found himself wondering how someone like this boy could even survive being a prince and living at court, if his image of courtly life was anything like the truth. Politicians were probably the same everywhere and Azula gave him a good clue.

But then again, that Toph girl was astoundingly straightforward too and she'd been surviving Slytherin just fine, although she did seem to have more sense of reality and a better grasp of the power struggle than Zuko. Her unshakable, rock-like shield of self-confidence and sharp wit must have helped, too. The prince was proud all right, probably too proud for his own good, but Harry learned long ago that pride of this sort rarely coincided with true confidence. More often than not, it served to cover and compensate for its serious lack.

Oblivious to Harry's straying thoughts, Zuko was still gazing at his own glass of butterbeer and concentrating on it so hard that one would think it held fascinating secrets about the nature of magic itself.

"It's… complicated," he started quietly; Harry had to lean forward to catch his words. "I do like her. And we've been, sort of… unofficially engaged for a while, I think. Her parents are of good standing and we've known each other as kids and… well. I sort of always expected us to marry when we grow up. But then, when I was thirteen, things went very bad and I fell into disgrace and, well, Mai's parents no longer thought it would be a good match to officially maintain, so the thing got called off. We still like each other, but it's not like we can do anything about it now, at least until my position is restored… you know? She can't go against her parents' will and I can't ask that of her, not when my own position is so uncertain. So we decided to wait, for now. See how it goes."

"Well," Harry stammered, once his mind wrapped around the idea. "Well, that's, um." _Stupid_ , he wanted to shout. Idiotic. Why would they care so much about what their parents wanted? Those were _their_ lives, not their parents', and it was their choice whom they wanted to date! If it were a British couple they would have just gone ahead and dated each other in spite of anything, instead of –

But that was the thing, and the part of Harry's brain that was not screaming in righteous indignation and was actually responsible for thinking realistically saw the cold logic of the situation. Zuko and that other girl were _not_ a British couple. Harry had no idea how things were done over in Asia, but if they still dabbled in arranged marriages in the upper stratas of society, well then, it was all down to tradition and the custom of obedience. And politics. Hell, it was probably so much more intricate and dangerous to live in Fire Nation court than it was being a minister in magical Britian. And Zuko was a prince, although his status seemed to be a tad hazy currently due to circumstances he was adamant to keep hidden. His love life was probably a matter of the state, or something. However that worked.

As he reflected on that, Harry thought, rather gloomily, how lucky the kids at Hogwarts were – those like him, Ron and Hermione, at least, as he had his doubts about the old pureblood houses, which probably still practiced arranged marriages. At least he could choose whom he wanted to date and it was nobody's business. Even if this did entail awkwardness beyond measure.

"That's tough," Harry concluded weakly, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, man."

Zuko shrugged and looked away, apparently once more lost in the world of his own demons.

Harry frowned. That wasn't what he wanted at all. He had to come up with something quickly before the atmosphere got any more gloomy.

"So, um. Some of the girls at Hogwarts think you're pretty cute," he ventured, feeling extremely awkward all of a sudden. And if that wasn't the understatement of the year, he would eat the Elder Wand. Zuko had practically an unofficial _fanclub_ of giggly girls going behind his back that could nearly rival Krum's back in fourth year. Harry thought it was rather amusing, not to mention the fact that it diverted the attention from himself just a little, for which he could not help but feel grateful. Besides, those few moments when Zuko was forced to acknowledge his own popularity by a particularly forward fangirl were absolutely hilarious and continued to circulate as anecdotes around the Great Hall for weeks.

The guy was even worse with girls than Harry.

Zuko looked up at him, his face a mask of pure dismay. "Your girls," he whispered, leaning over the table, "are weird."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, they tend to get a little overbearing."

"I can't imagine how they haven't driven you to murder yet, the way they're drooling over you," muttered the Asian boy, his thoughts thankfully diverted from the obviously dangerous topic of Mai. "It's crazy."

"I guess I've just learned to ignore it most of the time," Harry shrugged with a smile. "And besides, Ginny's got quite a reputation for fierceness, so I suppose those girls with an ounce of self-preservation instincts know not to cross certain boundaries."

"Ginny?" Zuko's lone eyebrow went up. "That girl with red hair? Is she your girlfriend?"

Now it was Harry's turn to go red. He scratched his head nervously, reaching out for what little butterbeer he still had left. "Well, um. We're sort of… taking a break. There was this war, you see, and I didn't want to put her in danger, so I stayed away, but she didn't like that at all and now she thinks I'm still being overprotective and not treating her seriously. It was a little hard, finding common ground again. I guess we agreed to wait for a bit. See how things go, like you said."

Zuko frowned, considering it. "And how are things going?" he asked after one of those longer pauses Harry had learned to expect from him.

The Gryffindor sighed. "Hard to tell," he confessed. "She still seems angry at me for some reason. But I'm trying to work on it. What else can a dude do?"

"Yeah," Zuko agreed, looking down at the table. "Not much."

Harry smiled at him despite his uneasiness. He could get used to spending time with Zuko. There was definitely promise there. And if he worked on it a little harder, perhaps he could get the boy to open up even more.

Suddenly, he had an idea how.

"Hey," he said, nudging Zuko's elbow. "Tell you what. Let's finish here and head back to the castle. I'll take you to the Quidditch pitch, it should be empty today. We'll go flying. I'll let you ride my Firebolt if you want."

The light which suddenly relit the fire in Zuko's golden eyes was worth putting up with even the worst temper tantrums in the world.


End file.
